


A Moment Of Us

by XtaticPearl



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 05:09:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11548131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XtaticPearl/pseuds/XtaticPearl
Summary: Steve opens his eyes to warmth. And then again to cold.





	A Moment Of Us

Steve opened his eyes to warmth. It’s not the kind of warmth that comes from sitting beside a bonfire or from huddling under layers of soft duvet. It’s also not the kind of warmth that comes from venturing too close to a burning car or escaping an explosion.

Explosion - Steve stilled and remembered in a flash. There had been an explosion when Tony had flown into Thanos, intent on grabbing the Gauntlet. The explosion had blinded them all for a minute and Tony, Tony -

\- was in his arms. Steve felt the prickle of stubble scratch against his collar and looked down to see an unruly mess of soft brown hair. An arm was thrown around his waist and a leg was resting between his legs, tangling with ease. There was a slow and deep constant of breathing against his neck and Steve knew, he just knew who it was. It was warm because of Tony. Who was in his arms.

Steve remembered reading something in an old book, a second-hand rundown of Sam’s that he had nicked during the days they had things to own. It had been a trashy romance fiction, the kind that Wanda would nitpick over and Vision would never understand. But Steve had been sleepless and bored, so he had thumbed through it. He remembered those lines, from that forgotten day - ‘Hold what you get, today, and hold it with all your heart. Your palms may slip with sweat, your tongue fumble with lies, and your eyes hood under fears but your heart will not fail. So when you get what you do not deserve, what you did not expect, what you always wanted - hold it with your heart.’

Steve didn’t know how to hold this in his heart. He felt Tony’s arm tighten around his waist and wondered if this was some punishment or taunt. Because this was not real. It could never be real. 

Tony grumbled something unintelligible into his neck and rubbed his nose against Steve’s skin under the ear. Steve’s arm clenched around Tony and he felt his throat choke up, a thousand dreams and yearnings crashing against his shore at the ease of that touch. He felt the man in his arms shift a little, sliding up against Steve’s side and Steve dropped his hand to Tony’s hip, holding him, grounding himself with the slin under his palm. 

Tony let out a content rumble at the caress and leaned away from Steve’s chest, eyes closed but lips curved in a peaceful smile. There were no lines of stress, hard and etched into his skin from years of battle and betrayals. There were no bruises under his eyes, no cuts over his cheekbones. There was no blood dripping down his temple. There was no cold behind him. 

And then Tony opened his eyes, drowsy and soft, and Steve was hit with the need to hold this moment in his heart. The brown swirls were devoid of anger, empty of fear and hatred. There was nothing but love and Steve had never wanted something with so much ache, so much longing as this. He couldn’t blink, didn’t dare to shut out this sight for a moment. They had tempted and taunted fate too much to repeat it by closing his eyes to this again. He stared and drank in the warmth of Tony in his arms and brightness of those eyes looking at him, not through him. 

Tony arched up and dragged a hand to Steve’s face, cupping his jaw tenderly; like it was a ritual, a prayer and a practice. Steve had touched fire but nothing burnt as hot as that one touch of tenderness. He couldn’t help himself from leaning into that touch, dragging Tony closer in his arms. Tony came, like he had never followed before he came, closing the gap of endless moments with an inch. 

Steve had once been an artist but when he felt Tony’s lips touch his, he swore that he had never known art before. Art was intangible and inescapable and intrusive. It was beautiful and bold and broad. It was encompassing and endless. But it was nothing and he had never known it till he had known the curves of Tony’s lips. Those lips which he had never thought he would hear his name from. Those lips that had hardened and closed off when he had shattered them in a bunker. Those lips that had teased and lied and lost and learned. He had never touched art till he had touched Tony. Till today. 

He felt Tony smile against his lips and smiled with him, following him wherever he wanted to go. When Tony broke away, leaning back just a bit, Steve chased him, wanting him back. He opened his eyes, having shut them to open his heart for Tony. He opened his eyes to see Tony again -

\- and saw the cold sky of ash. 

He remembered an explosion. A Reality Stone. Warmth of fire. A denial.

He remembered a raised fist. A last glance. A half spoken apology.

He remembered a wish. A feverish dream of concussion. A plea.

He remembered a moment. A kiss. A touch.

He closed his eyes back to hold his tears as his heart gave up on holding anymore.


End file.
